strange methods
by NightmaresInChibi
Summary: It's hard to tell without spelled out prompts whether or not to enjoy something. You can think something's damn awesome, and then you wind up changing your mind. Confusing, but screw it, whatever. It'll work out eventually, maybe...


Effort, Graham's come to realise, is rarely worth it. People who say that something was 'worth the effort' clearly just don't know what they're talking about. Any smart guy knows that you put in too much effort, it hasn't turned out the way you want it, and you're too tire to use what your efforts have created.

Clearing out a nice little space in his warehouse, however, was not at all an 'effort-unworthiness' situation. Especially after Shaft helped him set up the record player. It was a little awkward acquiring the records, and even more annoying to make them work. But after Graham threatened them with his tools a little, they seemed to be content with playing, if in a slightly jittery, stilted manner. Still, it doesn't matter. It's the thought that counts. Or at least, so he's heard.

"What exactly do you plan on doing with a busted up record player and an empty space?" Shaft asks, looking over in that totally exasperated, 'seriously doubting your intelligence' kind of way. Graham's beginning to wonder if that's just his default expression. But, no, he's seen him looking all despair filled and miserable before too. Wait, what was the question?

"Now that, Shaft, is the very point of this incredible story! If I were to tell you the end before we reach it, before we go through all the little details first, that would spoil the whole thing, and wouldn't that be a tragedy? Such a sad story, right Shaft?" That made more sense to Graham before he said it. Such it was with most of what he came up with. A very sad story.

Shaft just shrugs, damn him, and gives an infuriating smile in Graham's general direction. "Whatever, just don't make me clean up whatever it is you fill your empty space with."

"Sure, sure," Graham grins, waving Shaft away with his wrench. At least the guy can take a hint, he waves back as he leaves the old warehouse, narrowly missing being crushed by the door as it slips out of place for the third time that day.

"I really need to fix that," Graham murmurs at first, but it a couple words later and his volume already rising far too loud for the empty space, "better yet, let's skip such a boring story and make Shaft do it!" He laughs, manic and delighted, spinning around to admire his hard earned empty space. Now, hopefully, he can keep it that way until Boss Ladd arrives.

The sun's just begun its meandering journey down the sky, orange light filtering through grimy windows, when Ladd finally shows. Graham doesn't ask what kept him, the pretty bloodstains on the white suit - not to mention the shotgun - are enough.

"You've cleaned up a bit since I was last here," Boss Ladd observes, glancing around the clearing of machinery before turning his attention to Graham. "Looks better like this. Although I don't suppose you'll keep it that way, will you?"

Graham's almost tempted to ask why people keep saying that, but instead he just smiles. It hurts. "Maybe," he says, although he can feel other words crashing in to each other in an effort to replace it. "If you like it better like this, I will. I'll try."

"Either way, it doesn't matter," Ladd smirks, so annoying and exciting and painful, "it's not like I'm here often."

Graham hates it when Boss Ladd says that stuff, sure, it's true, and asking him not to would be too much, but still. He hates it.

Graham thinks about the record player, and almost decides it'd be better to ask Shaft to try it out with him, easier at any rate.

Ladd's walking over to him, and Graham draws in a shaky breath as his pulse quickens. He can still feel the bruises on his throat. Ladd doesn't touch him though, doesn't go to cut off his oxygen supply or anything, and Graham isn't quite sure if he's relieved or disappointed. Maybe both, he's having difficulty enough breathing as it is. Why do these things never come at a good time?

"You panic too much," Ladd tells him, and Graham wonders if it's that obvious. "You always like this?"

"No," Graham's pretty sure that's true. He can't really remember. "Just sometimes. Bad times. Makes for a sad story."

"Is it bad that I'm here then?" Boss Ladd asks, and Graham wants to tell him that's not what he meant, that it's not like that, but he can't remember how to talk anymore. Damn, always at such a bad time. Damn it. Damnitdamnitdamnitdamnitdamnit -

"Whatever then" Ladd says, and this time it's just relief. He nods over at the old record player. "That thing still work?"

"Yeah," it's a struggle just to say that, but Graham manages it okay. "Why do you want to know?"

But Ladd's already wandering over, still holding his shotgun, and picking up one of the half busted records.

Even though he was watching the whole time, Graham's still a little surprised when the music starts up, and Boss Ladd walks back over to him, grinning.

"This alright with you?" he asks, throwing an arm around Graham's waist and pulling him closer. The blood's already soaking through Graham's clothes from Ladd's, but he doesn't mind. It's kinda of a nice feeling. Kind of.

"This is okay," Graham says, and his voice comes out way too quiet for his liking. "I'm cool with his."

"Good," Ladd replies, and his voice is far too close to Graham's ear for comfort, and Graham loves it.

Boss Ladd keeps their bizarre - surreal - dance fairly slow, although that could just be from how disjointed their music is, but Graham's okay with that. He likes this, maybe even more that Ladd's fingers around his neck, even with the fact Ladd's still saying he's going to kill him.

And with the shotgun so close, Graham has no doubt that it's true. Still, probably not today. And even if it is today, it's been fun so far. Who's to say being shot in the head isn't fun, too?

"You think I'm going to kill you right now, don't you?" Ladd's question, as much as it's exactly the kinda of thing he would say, feels out of place to Graham. "You know it's never as fun if you see it coming."

"I know," Graham steps back a little, watching the gun as much as he can without looking like he wants to get shot. Or maybe it's better if he does look like that. More honest, anyway. He thinks.

"Do you want to die today? Now?"

Hard question.

"Not right now," Graham says, slowly, "I'm kinda enjoying just this, Do you need to kill me to make this a better story?" Ladd doesn't reply straight away, just pulls Graham against him again. It's still okay though. Graham doesn't mind too much if Ladd doesn't answer. He never expects him to answer the more important questions. The music still sounds awkward, but with the sudden silence, it's like the volume's suddenly spiked.

"I guess not," Boss Ladd sighs, but he's smirking. That has to be a good thing. Graham wants it to be a good thing "You know, if you ask me really nicely, I might decide not to kill you at all. We are friends, after all. I don't kill my friends, but maybe I'll make an exception for you if you don't play this right."

What the hell, Graham thinks, how can Boss Ladd talk about killing him nonstop for weeks and then suddenly say he doesn't have to? It doesn't make sense, and it makes it hard to breathe to contemplate why.

"What counts as nicely?" Graham manages after way too much silence. Ladd just shrugs and smiles.

"How should I know? I was kinda hoping you'd have something of some actual intelligence to say in response to my challenge. But if you don't, then that really is quite a shame. A sad story, as you'd say, right?" Ladd looks unbelievably pleased with his answer, smile changing to a less subtle smirk. It's a little unsettling, and Graham's seriously hoping there isn't some kind of time limit on his answer. It's getting hard to think, and trying to put all his sadness, anger, all of that emotional shit, in to words, is just energy draining.

"I think," Graham begins slow, and it feels so unnatural talking like this, but he'll get there. He hopes. "I'd like it if you maybe didn't kill me for a while. Have I said this before? Whatever, just, before you kill me, I'd like to at least spend a little while longer with you . Maybe it's an incomprehensible story, but I don't think I want to die just yet, I guess." He draws in a slow, slightly shaky breath. "I like...just this. I like this story the way it is. It doesn't - I don't think it needs any adjustments, check up or whatever. I want to just stay as your friend, or whatever, I like being one of your friends," Graham pauses, voice lilting away from coherency for a brief moment. "Is that cool? It doesn't make me sound, I don't know, killable or whatever?"

Ladd laughs at that, loud and slightly crazed. Such a pretty sound, just lovely, Graham thinks. If not a tad terrifying.

"It sounds fine, " Ladd says after his laughter's died down a little, "I'm not gonna kill you, not yet. Maybe it'll take years. Tell me when you wanna keep living, and I'll kill you for you. Sound?"

"Yeah," Graham smile's back. It doesn't hurt this time. "I'll be sure to remember that. It sounds like an important detail to this story."

"You and your stories," Ladd smirks, "keeps yourself right there. I'm changing the record."

Graham nods as Boss Ladd walks off. He watches - more intently this time, as Ladd plays around with the half-working player.

"I'll get us a new one," Graham calls over, "if you want."

"That'd be great," the music eases in to a proper melody, even with the jittery static in the background, and Ladd skips - lunatic - back over. "Now." Ladd bows, with far too much flourish to be necessary. "May I have this dance?"

Such a gentleman.

"Sure," Graham accepts Ladd's hand. This is good, he likes this. It's perfect. After all, they're friends, and Ladd's not going to kill him. That makes for a wonderful story, regardless of everything else.


End file.
